


Bacon Sandwich

by Impala_Chick



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 08:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5449751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Nixon thinks he knows how to cure everything, but Dick has other plans.</p><p>A coda to 1x05 "Crossroads".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bacon Sandwich

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaydeefalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaydeefalls/gifts).



> Thanks for the great prompt - I almost forgot how much I love this fandom! Bonus points if you catch all the dick jokes :D
> 
> Beta'd by blithers. Thank you! All remaining mistakes are my own fault.

Every time Nixon came upon Easy Company, the exhausted looks on everyone’s faces almost made him feel guilty. He was squirreled away at Company command, pouring over paperwork, listening to Commanders, guzzling coffee, while Easy Company was getting ambushed by the fucking SS. 

Everyone looked so staunchly different to him when he saw them because every time, they had gone through some fresh hell that Nixon could only imagine. 

Nixon knew that the war would be won by maps and numbers and moving front lines. For that reason, he knew his job was important. He had heard all the reports over the comms, he had been given the casualty numbers and had counted the captured Krauts. The ambush at the crossroads had been successful. But the human cost of the war sometimes was lost amongst all the numbers, right up until he saw Dick Winters. 

He found him crouched down against a pole, his face covered in dirt. His eyes were quiet and searching, his shoulders were sagged forward, and the way he sat made it look like his whole body was too heavy for standing. Nixon’s heart ached. There was nothing that could be said to heal a pain like that. 

It almost bothered him that Dick felt the need to clarify that he wanted water, not hooch. Nixon wasn’t a drunk. He just drank when there were no words, no numbers, no maps that could explain what it was he was asking people to do. What he was asking Dick to do. He was the one who fretted and wondered and played the “what if” game while the guys were all out getting shot at, including Dick. It might have been easier if Nixon had been out at the Crossroads himself. 

Nixon might not be the best with words, but at least Dick had the decency to act like he knew what Nixon wasn’t saying. Dick really was the most decent guy Nixon had ever met. And wasn’t this a shitty time to have that realization. Didn’t Nixon’s heart know there was a war on?

Sure, Nixon had known Dick Winters for a while now. But to see the man handle extremely dangerous situations, over and over, it just did things to Nixon. That level of competency was hard to find. It didn’t escape Nixon how he gravitated towards Dick. He thought he wanted to be like Dick, just like everyone else in the Company. But that wasn’t it, exactly. Seeing Dick brightened up his day. Dick even made Nixon feel safe, if Nixon was being honest. He drew hope from Dick’s energy. 

But today, something was different. Something was off. Something was finally getting to Dick Winters, and Nixon had better do something before their souls both drifted off and were lost at sea. Nixon was certain they could find another numbers guy, another man with a map, but there could never been another Dick Winters. If Dick Winters fell, the 101st was toast. Nixon wasn’t about to let that happen. 

Buttering up Nixon’s CO was easy enough.

“Sir, you know Captain Winters.”

“Of course, Nix. Is he alright?”

“Yessir, he’s fine. But I was just thinking about how that man hasn’t had any time to see Europe. He’s just a farmer boy from Pennsylvania, you know. I bet he’d love to see all that France has to offer.”

“He’s never been?”

“No, sir. And he’d never think to ask. But I just think since he’s been doing such a fine job, the US Army might want to show their appreciation.”

“You know we’ve got much more territory to go before this war is over.”

“I do, sir, I do. That’s why I think this is the right move for morale. Show how much our officers are appreciated. Paris cures all ills, Sir.”

“Ah, that it does. I assume you want to head out to Paris too?”

“No sir, I’m afraid my cure is holed up in Aldbourne.”

“Aldbourne was rather lovely, I don’t blame you there.” 

His CO winked at him, and Nix knew he had gotten what he wanted: for Dick to be right in the middle of some excellent and sinful opportunities, and far away from him. 

Nixon figured the best way to help Dick would be to get him a change of pace away from anyone he knew. Maybe then Dick could loosen up. And that way Nixon couldn’t do anything stupid. 

When Nixon gave Dick his weekend pass, he almost seemed disappointed. His face fell for just a second, but maybe Nixon only saw because he wanted Dick to feel jealous at hearing his own plans. He wanted to get a rise out of the man whose feathers could never be ruffled. Good thing Nixon’s special friend in Aldbourne didn’t expect him to talk much. Because Dick was on the tip of his tongue all weekend. In more ways than one.

He got back a little after Dick did. He knew Dick was back because he asked around. He thought about going to see him, but decided against it. The whole point of the weekend was to let Dick be his own man, relax, and forget about the US Army. 

So Nixon was rearranging his footlocker to load up again when someone rapped on his door. He opened it to find Dick Winters dressed sharply, hat in hand. His face seemed taught, his mouth drawn into a straight line. His deep hazel eyes were bright though, so Nixon didn’t care how mad Dick was at him. Mission fucking accomplished.

“Bonjour, monsieur,” Nixon said, with such gravitas that he was sure his high school French teacher would have been proud. The corner of Dick’s mouth twitched up slightly, but otherwise he remained stoic. He shouldered past Nixon, turned around, and gestured with his chin for Nixon to shut the door. 

“Listen, whatever a French broad may or may not have done to you was not my fault-”

“Nix, don’t. Why’d you make me leave?” At this point, Nixon noticed that Dick was carrying something in his other hand.

Nixon scrambled for words, unsure why he was getting accosted. Couldn’t a friend do something nice for a friend anymore?

“I thought it would be good -” 

“No, why did you make me go _alone_?”

Oh. _Oh._ Well, this was something unexpected. 

“Am I to assume that something is going on right now that normally does not go on between two men in this United States Army?” 

“I think it happens more often than you think,” Dick shot back. His mouth finally formed into a smile, the kind where his teeth actually showed. Dick’s eyebrow was raised in challenge, and Nixon used all his strength to keep from reaching out. 

Nixon let himself laugh then, a nervous and fluttery laugh that was surely giving himself away. But Dick’s kind eyes never left his face. He wondered what had emboldened him enough to be the one to bring it all out into the open, but that question could wait. Nixon was rather enjoying letting Dick lead this conversation for once.

“I got you something,” Dick said. He held out a small package wrapped in white paper. Nixon took it and he smelled it before he had finished unwrapping. Bacon. Between two pieces of bread. Actual fucking bacon.

“How did you manage this?” Nixon delicately held the sandwich as he unwrapped it. He lifted it to his face and breathed in. He was sure he wouldn’t see bacon until well after the war had ended. He looked up and noticed Dick staring at him, transfixed. Nixon played it up, grunting and groaning like a broad. Dick gently pushed him in the shoulder.

“Knock that off. You do not want to know what I had to do to get that,” Dick said as she stepped closer, into Nixon’s space. Nixon hoped that Dick would stay true to form and not overlook this golden opportunity.

“I wouldn’t believe you if you told me,” Nixon offered, his voice a dare he hoped Nixon understood.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” Dick said before his lips met Nixon’s. The dryness of Dicks’ lips made the kiss feel raw and rushed, and Nixon’s tongue darted out to taste. 

Dick pulled back just a bit, and Nixon gasped for air like he had been underwater.

“Don’t you dare drop that sandwich,” Dick said with a smile. Smug bastard.


End file.
